I watched as the creature tumbled down, a massive hole in its head, it spasmed and twitched for a couple seconds before it finally settled. It was dead, the being who was in the brink of killing me—dead just like that, unceremoniously, an anticlimatic ending. But I can't say that I'm unhappy about it. I don't actually care who—or what— delivers the final blow. I am alive and that is more than enough for me.

  I fell down in sheer exhaustion, my body sinking into the ground.

  My gaze wandered towards the bird drenched in green blood, bits and pieces of brain matter sticking to its beak and head. The raven was perched on a dry branch, not very far away. It raised its beak high up, towards the sky, an air of smugness seeping out of it. Its night-black wings flapped and stirred the air around it, making a rather regal sound. Slowly it was cleaning itself of the gore that dirtied it, and the ebon-coloured feathers were pristine once more. A loud croak escaped its pharynx, and echoed in the surroundings, I guess this is its version of a war cry. I laughed to myself, seeing the peculiar bird and its antics. After such a close call, I couldn't deny, such moments were precious and somewhat endearing.

  It jumped up and glided in the air, slowly approaching me. Landing right beside me, the waterlogged soil making a dull squelch, as its little talons sank into the mud. Its beady pitch-black eyes staring straight into my soul. It had a curious glint to it, mischievous even. It skipped closer to me, always staring straight into my eyes. It croaked once more, as it did, deafening whispers rumbled in my mind, I shook my head around disoriented. The whispers grew unbearably louder, trying to communicate to something—to connect with something, I felt something stir inside me but it was to weak to reach the whispers. That feeling vanished as if it never existed and the whispers ceased, something felt different yet incomplete. The bird looked at me with disappointment filling its eyes. Somehow I myself felt agrieved at it, as if I had failed at something as simple as breathing, I don't need to mention how pathetic a feeling that actually is. I gritted my teeth in frustration, I looked at the raven with an apologetic gaze. It seemed to understand the meaning behind my every movement. it did what I can only describe as a bird sighing, flapped its wings and rested on my bony shoulder. It nuzzled against my jaw, maybe trying to comfort me.

  My pupils felt heavy and my whole body ached, the burden of victory taking its toll on me. My eyes burned with tiredness, I could barely keep myself awake, I could feel the emptyness in my body with most of my organs gone. I used whatever energy I had to ponder over my condition. This tiredness If I could call it that, seemed like such a human notion, something that I firmly believed would be denied to me in whatever state I found myself into. Granted I have 'slept' before but I never felt 'tired'. It's just confusing and mind-numbing, if it wasn't for my stubborness and fear of oblivion I would have just layed in that wood cart that bastard left me in, and rotted away—forgotten by the rivers of time. The weight of my pupils grew even more unbearable, my bones throbbed with unyielding pain, I was starting to lose consciousness. Doing so in the middle of the swamp would be a death sentence... For a living being that is. My rotting stench, the minuscule amount of flesh in me, wouldn't be enough to attract wandering beasts. Even if those were just my hopeful guesses, I just had an inkling that it would be so.

  The raven looked at me with an assuring look, one I couldn't quite figure out, which I found odd given I was able to understand it perfectly up to this point. I tried talking to it, but without my tongue and throat what came out were the dry sounds of my lips clashing against one another and a chilly raspy sound. The bird just intensified the assurance gaze. This time I understood it, the words 'it's going to be alright' almost echoed in my mind. I smiled a bit, and that was the last action I did before sinking into darkness.

  The air was thick with the putrid smell of rusted iron, slow death and rotten sinews. The moonlight slithered through warped, oil-smeared windows, dancing and intertwining with shadows in a lugubrious dance. Particles of dust danced under the silver light of the moon giving an ever so ethereal air to the place. The floor littered with old parchment, bone shards and cracked vials still weeping its eerie contents. In the center of it all stood a slab, stained with fresh blood and surrounded by slimy pieces of unrecognizable flesh. Atop it, something that once walked and breathed—something that dreamed and hoped. But it would do so no more.

  A bundle of beliefs—now it lied open in cold unfeeling steel. It's insides lied open, arrenged almost like an offering... or a sick display: livers folded aside, heart suspended in a glass dish, lungs peeled apart like book pages and ribs spread apart with glittering hooks.

  A man stood over the body, hands encased in gloves too thin for human comfort. His robes loose and not a trace of stain in it, the linen of which it was made dark as the pupils that observed the 'carcass'. He had rolled his sleaves wiht methodical and surgical precision, revealing wrists as pale as candlewax and fingers long enough to reach through the rivers of time.

  The scalpel danced in his hands, cutting muscle and skin alike, as if a maestro was working on his Magnum Opus. He hummed to himself a low tune. It had no rithm, as if it was stiched in a nightmare, the haunting melody echoed in the shack. The demonic tune continued as he scrutinized the body. It was... interesting. That he could not deny. Strange growths on the back of the skull. Overdevelopment of muscle tissue, spongy tendons. Clear signs of the influence of Maltrix but no enough to impress him. His golden eyes glinted as he drew closer, lips parting time and again in fascination.

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  And then, he paused.

  The shack fell into silence, save for the soft sound of something unspeakable dripping onto the floor.

  Tap.

  He didn't look up.

  Tap.

  He blinked.

  Tap. Tap.

  It came from the window—a steady pecking, steming not from animal instinct, but from sentient intelect.

  He straightned, gloved fingers still inside the corpse's open chest. Slowly he turned, towards the source of the sound.

  Perched on the edge of the windowstill, silhouetted in silver light, was a raven, far bigger than its nowmal brethren. Its feathers gleamed in an unnatural abyssal black, slicked back with remains of viscera. Its beak crusted with green gore. And its eyes... No animal has eyes like that—they stared straight into his soul.

  "...Curious," The man murmured, voice soft as a breath on cold glass.

  The raven tilted its head. A second later it croaked. The sound wasn't a cry, rather it was a statement.

  The man staggered back, hand twitching as a whisper grazed the edge of his mind. It was faint, like someone brushing past a veil in a chapel.

  The corpse beneath his seized and spasmed. He looked down and saw, the heart atop the glass beat onlyone time. The spread lungs pull air and release it before lying still once more. Then silence returned.

  His golden eyes narrowed.

  "You're not mine." He whispered to the bird. "But you do belong to someone, don't you?" He asekd soflty with a knowing gaze.

  The raven stared on, unmoving.

  A smile, slow and bloodless, crept across his face. It didn't reach his eyes.

  "Well then..." He said, turning away to rinse his hand in a basin filled with a dark water. "Let's see what you have for me little beast."

  The crooked smile never left his face, as he grabbed his clothes. A double-brested wool coat, hanging like a funeral shroud, not having a single wrinkle. A slightly tilted top hat casting a crooked shadow. A long silver cane with a large crystal embeded in its upper end. After he was done, he moved towards the door, in deliberate slow steps, not intending to waste even the lowest amount of energy. As he steped out of his shack, he saw that same raven waiting for him. It opened one of it's wings and pointed, deep into the mist.

  The corner of its eyes arched ever so slightly upwards, forming two crascent moons.

  As he walked, the ground beneath him squelched and made other abominable sounds. But his shoes... his shoes never sank, they never got dirty. They maintened their black luster, even amidst all this filth. All that was left ins his wake were the soft footprints left behind his wake. The shadows seemed to part, making way for him, the mist lessened as if not daring to hinder him. He walked unperturbed, glancing upwards from time to time. The raven flew above his head, casting a lone shadow in the night.

  They moved further, towards the depths of the swamp. The entire ambient stood silent, compared to the low growls and howls that were common in this place—especially at night. While walking the man delved into his own thoughts, a way to escape the monotony of the surroundings. His experments, his little projects and his ambition at the end of it all.

  After a while the raven croaked, and he was taken away from his musings. The scenery that greeted him, was one of carnage. Several creatures he knew as lesser bog-walkers lied mangled. Seeing the raven perched in a branch and unmoving, he decided to examine the site. He got closer to one and knelt, to inspect it closer.

  'Sloppy work...' He thought, as his hand turned the creatures crushed head sideways. 'Misuse of strenght, too much effort for too little results.' He got up and then approached a pair of them, spread not too far apart. He used his cane and rolled over the one who lied face down. 'Used one as an improvised weapon against the other..." His eyes narrowed looking at the mangled corpses. 'Impressive physical prowess, great show of bruttality.' He studied each one of them, drawing assumptions and analyzing. He grew more interested by the second.

  "Well little beast?" He asked with a playfull gaze lingering on his face. "I suppose this is the work of your master? Or perhaps of the beast chasing him?" He glanced at the raven. "Anyways you have gotten my attention little one. Now would you lead the way?"

  The bird just raised its wing pointing in a direction once more.

  Thus he walked in the instructed path.

  Again after some time of walking, he was greeted with another gruesome sight.

  A greater bog-walker, its entire body filled with slashes and cuts, it looked more like a massive wound than a proper creature. He got closer to the beast and looked to the massive hole in its head, than he looked towards the bird, noticing the green remnant gore on it. "Your handywork I presume?" The creature just raised its head with pride, which he found a bit curious. Afterwards he looked at the other figure. A young man, medium stature. His leftside completely gone, all his inner organs were missing. "Well... Guess your master got eaten in the time you came to fetch me little one." He said in a scoffing manner.

  The bird however just croaked and pointed its wing to the corpse.

  His eyes narrowed and irritation started to bubble up. As he was about to speak again, the raven croaked and pointed to the corpse again.

  Thus he took another look at the corpse of the creature's master. His eyes shot wide, he noticed incongruities which he had overlooked. The corpse was rotten. Which shouldn't be possible, if he died by being devoured by some beast in his exhausted state. Let alone rotten, his body should still be warm, much like the greater bog-walker. His face grew serious and he made a deeper examination.

  His half smile turned demonic and his eyes glinted with inhumane satisfaction.

  "Well, well..." His voice barely contained his excitement. "Seems you brought me quite the gift little raven." He said in a derranged tone.

  HAHAHAHAHAHA!

  A mad laugh echoed in the depths of the swamp.